Nothing

One

  Hermione Granger awoke with her arms chained together and to the ceiling of a rather cave-like ceiling. It was the only thing she could she; her head wasn't moving, and her eyes were squinting, full of water. After a moment, she realized that she was in unbelievable pain- her head was searing as if made entirely of acid, her neck and shoulders were horribly sore, and felt almost dislocated. Her torso was covered in scabbing, bloody wounds, and she was extremely nauseous- probably from the blood loss. Her hips felt as if they'd been snapped in half at her groin. She couldn't even feel her legs; she fearfully worried in her drowsy state that she didn't have any until she realized there was a horrible, painful numbness in place of them.
Slowly, she managed to move her head forward. It felt as if it were falling off of her body, and her spine cracked loudly several times before her chin hit her chest. She did indeed have her legs, hanging limply a centimeter or two from the floor. Her jeans were tight and looked damp, and her shirt was nearly nonexistent. The underwire of her bra was poking her and straight out, and her jacket was hanging crudely off of her. Her clothes were stained with blood.
"Tergeo," she heard in a familiar, crisp voice behind her, and the blood was gone. "Vulnera Sanentur." The wounds closed up and she gasped gently.
"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, reluctantly; the man healing her may very well be the man who had injured her. However, with how groggy she was, it could be an ally her out-of-it mind couldn't place.
"Yes," the voice said, and it was cold. It was probably an enemy... Who else would sound like that? Professor Snape? No, the voice was too high... McGonagall? Her voice was deep, for a woman. Or, it could be an Order member she had not yet met...
"Who are you? Where am I? What happened?"
The witch or wizard behind her sighed. "At least you used your manners before asking pointless questions..." It was definitely a man, and definitely not Professor Snape. Draco Malfoy? No... Too old... His father?
"Yes, indeed. I'm surprised you remembered my voice." Lucius Malfoy finally walked to the front of the girl, out of his Death Eater outfit and decked in his usual attire. He looked less like a wizard, in traditional robes that looked mystical, and more like a medieval king, with his many dark, cool layers and rather tight pants. His long, silky hair was laying straight down his back, and his large, pale hand held gracefully his wand with its snake head. He looked so handsome it made Hermione sick to look at him; handsome, and evil.
Malfoy got a small, cocky smile on his thin mouth, eyes proud and amused. "Why, thank you."
Confusion coursed through the drowsy teenager before it hit her- legilimens. She tried to utilize occlumens, but was not mentally capable, and she made a noise of frustration. Malfoy let out a low, short chuckle.
"Such a smart girl. Smart, beautiful, resourceful... Shame all of your talents were wasted on a mudblood. And shame you had to be in Draco's year- the fact that you're the one person better than him in the whole bunch of you is quite irksome for him and his mother. And, I admit, for myself as well." Lucius continued walking. "However, now, with you gone... My son will get the recognition he deserves."
Hermione sneered and grunted at the effort and resulting pain, and Lucius raised a disdainful brow at her. "Do try to hold in such buffoonish noises as comes natural to your kind."
Fury seared through the fifteen year old, and Malfoy sighed. He silently waved his wand and her wild, dark hair was suddenly untangled and clean, loosely braided on her spine. He waved his wand once more, and her jacket and shirt fell to the floor.
"Hey!" she roared, offended. Lucius rolled silver eyes.
"I have a wife and child. Nothing a fifteen year girl has is new to me."
Hermione scowled at him as he waved her jeans away, too, and he made a distasteful face to see that the only thing protecting her most private of places from him was a small bushel of dark curls.
He sighed and waved his wand once more, and a new pair of panties, cotton, white, and clean, appeared on her, and her sneakers and socks disappeared. He cast one final spell and the rest of her pain dissipated, though the grogginess in her head remained. She soon realized she was freezing and starving.
"Now, to answer your questions," Malfoy said. "I, as you have already realized, am Lucius Malfoy. You are in one of the many dungeons of Malfoy Manor- one of my personal favorites; it fogs the mind of any captive within without hindering the captor should he wish to come down here- and you were captured in what people have come to refer the Battle of the Department of Mysteries."
Slowly, jumbled memories came together at the man's words, and she looked desperately at him. He raised his brows and looked more intently at her, as if wondering what she would say. "Yes, dear?"
"Are my friends alright?"
Lucius' brows fell and he got a small smile. "Indeed- other than Sirius Black, that is. I'm sure Potter is quite torn up about that."
Hermione swallowed, then looked back down.
They stood- well, Malfoy stood, Hermione hung- in silence for several long moments before Lucius broke the silence.
"That's it, then? No more questions, no begging for release, no screaming profanity?" He seemed mildly surprised, with his quiet voice. There was something odd about his behavior, as if he wanted her to do those things.
"Do this often?" Hermione quipped. Lucius gave her a dark, intense look.
"More than you may imagine," he replied, voice almost angry. Hermione looked away.
"Why?"
"You'll need to be more specific."
"Why am I here?"
Lucius seemed to think it over, before giving a graceful, nonchalant shrug. "Why not?" Hermione gave a dry, humorless laugh.
Malfoy moved closer and unshackled the girl, and she fell. For a moment, she thought she had herself, but then her knees buckled and the Slytherin caught her by the waist, then lowered to the ground. She lay down and closed her eyes, mind uncooperative, feeling unreasonably apathetic.
"I figured you would have put up much more of a fight," remarked the Death Eater. Hermione couldn't bring herself to respond. He made a movement; Hermione opened her left eye to see him crouched beside her.
"Me, too,"
"Perhaps it's the magic of the dungeon."
"I want to sleep," Hermione whispered, hugging herself. Malfoy tsked at her, then snapped his fingers; suddenly, she was wide awake. She looked at him as he shifted, then parted her legs. She frowned, confused once more, as he kneeled between her thighs. He leaned over her, one hand to the right of her head, the other snaking over her waist, and she pushed him away.
He slammed her wrists suddenly beside her ears, and she stopped in shock, looking up at him with wide eyes. He looked down at her scornfully. "Just stay still like a good little Mudblood," he murmured. His velvet-like voice was comforting, and she closed her eyes and let her head tilt to the side. Mudblood was a cool-sounding word... Like she was made of mud. Like she had a superpower. She relaxed as Lucius gently traced her body over, and she opened her eyes again to see the pretty contrast of his pale hands on her smooth, swarthy skin.
It was nice, she found herself thinking, as he removed her undergarments and began kissing her neck. She cooed as his experienced tongue traced her skin, as his strong arms wrapped around her. He was so big, and masculine, and brilliant, and she was small, and feminine, and complaisant...
But then she made a noise as she realized no, she wasn't... Panic filled her... Panic, and terror... She didn't want-
But the feelings melted away as he touched her smooth cheek with his warm hand. What didn't she want? She didn't want him to stop... Ever.
He leaned back and looked down at her thin body, a strange look in his eyes, then met hers.
Suddenly, she thought about sex... She'd never had it before. She'd never thought about it, either, or even been kissed... Suddenly, Lucius got a dark smirk on his face, and he pressed his mouth to hers.
She kissed him back, thoughtlessly moving her tongue against his, her lips in rhythm with his, as he ground against her, holding her thighs open. The pressure between her legs felt surprisingly well, and soon it was like her stomach and groin had liquefied in the most pleasant of ways. She moaned as he pulled back and moved down to her small breasts, mouth suckling her small, tawny nipples. She moaned as an odd, sharp pleasure rippled through her chest, and gasped as the same feeling intensified painfully when his white teeth bit down. She cried out and arched into him.
He applied attention to both of her nipples for a while, until it felt like her entire body was a puddle, then rubbed his hand against her open slit, and she felt a sharp tang of absolute bliss. He gave a dark, proud smirk, and started kissing her sensually again, rubbing her slowly before finding what it seemed like he had been lazily searching for; an even purer, more intense pang of nirvana danced within her and she cooed into his mouth, ending it in a desperate whimper, and he slowly played with the spot until her mind was slop; her thighs twitched and she breathed shakily, incapable of kissing him back. He very slowly increased his assault on her until she felt like she needed to do something, as if she had something growling and burning deep in her belly in desperate need of release, and she begged incoherently for something she knew not. He groaned into her mouth, and suddenly his greedy, lovely fingers were moving fast, bringing her closer to an unexplored, delicious edge. She gasped and whimpered piteously as he suddenly stopped, leaving her feel almost hungry, as he slowly undressed, driving her crazy. Then, he pushed himself inside of her and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as he started moving inside of her. He felt so big and foreign inside of her, and she practically purred as he started pounding into her. She moaned and groaned loudly as he fucked her, hard, and she gasped as she realized just what he was doing to her. A noise of anger and anguish erupted from her just as rope bound her suddenly. She screamed and wept as he pounded her, now in her right mind- or close to it- and Malfoy grinned down at her; he was still using legilimens, and he knew her body still absolutely loved it; she was soaking wet and her body gripped autonomously around his long, girthy member as it slammed against her cervix. He kept pounding and started to swirl his fingers on her upright, needy clit again, and she sucked in air, eyes rolling. She was immediately right back to the place she had been before, and gasped as she quickly felt her body seemingly implode, her groin spazzing in a way Hermione couldn't explain even in her own mind. She was suddenly so oversensitive her pleasure was painful, but he twiddled her clit still, even though her limps were numb and tingly and the girl could swear she was going to die here, in so much pleasure it hurt, at the hand of an old, hateful, cruel Death Eater.
Malfoy pounded her more roughly at her thought, as if in punishment, and she felt like he were ripping her open in the most delightful way possible. "Is that what you think of me? After how nicely I've treated you?" He mocked.
Her body went over the edge again, and she screamed as it all felt so wrong; he had to stop, she couldn't handle it- she couldn't feel anything now, just her throbbing, needy pussy.
"That's all you are, mudblood," Lucius growled. "A soaking, dirty cunt that needs to be filled."
She whimpered as her insides felt even wetter- from him? Was he- ejaculating? He laughed, a short, amused laugh, before shuddering. He slammed even faster, even harder, before groaning and becoming sporadic; then, he came, and she gasped, feeling it fill her up. She whimpered as he gasped, quite happily, and pulled out. It slowly dripped out of her, and she felt absolutely horrible- disgusting. She wept.
"Such an ingrate." spat Lucius coldly. She kicked him and he narrowed his eyes, before grabbing her by her braid and yanking her towards him. She yelled out in pain.
"Shut up," he snapped. "You could have had it so very good," He scowled at her a long time before shoving her back onto the ground, then redressing slowly as the fifteen year old curled into herself and cried.
"Very well, then," Lucius hissed before heading to the exit of the dungeon. He looked over his shoulder to meet eyes with the girl one final time. "We'll see how well you enjoy some of my... Allies."
And then, he was gone, and fear inched into Hermione at what would become of her next.